The Room of the Gods

I. Papa Legba's Gesture

The murmurs of divine tension filled the Stone Temple.

Papa Legba stepped forward.

Calm.

Smiling.

Eyes like stormclouds behind sunshine.

He raised his hand.

"This temple is not enough."

With a single wave, reality folded.

Stone peeled away like paper.

Sky vanished into velvet.

The torches dimmed, only for stars to emerge—real stars, wheeling above an endless vaulted dome that stretched beyond space.

The floor became polished obsidian.

Chairs grew from living roots, scaled stone, shadow-stuff, and molten metal—each shaped to suit the god who would sit upon it.

A new space was born:

The Room of the Gods.

Here, no mortal could enter unless called.

Here, no god could lie.

Here, time listened.

II. Late Arrivals

As the room quieted into uneasy focus, the obsidian doors groaned.

A figure entered, cloaked in dusk-fire.

Kasa.

His eyes had changed—gold-flecked, bearing the weight of memory and heat.

Behind him, the Flame Serpent God slithered in, no longer flickering and feral—but coiled, regal, and radiant. Scales like embers. Eyes like molten suns. He bowed to no one.

Some gods watched with silent recognition.

Others bristled.

"Another god awakens…" whispered the Weaver.

Zion met Kasa's eyes across the chamber.

For a breath—no words passed.

But something old stirred in the space between them.

Not hatred.

Not alliance.

But a shared fire the others could not name.

III. The Rift Opens

The silence broke—shattered—by a shriek beyond hearing.

The gods stiffened.

Even Baron Samedi's grin faltered.

A tear in space ripped open near the chamber edge—not from within this world, but from a hunger beneath all worlds.

The air grew heavy.

The stars above flickered.

From within the rift, The Devoured stepped forward—skin stitched with shadows, mouth seared shut by celestial metal.

Eyes blazing with ancient wrongs.

"This… gathering offends the old laws," it rasped.

"You speak of peace, while the Beast Gods hunger."

With a wave of its claw, it split the veil again—a portal gaping open to a place none had named in centuries.

The Beast Planet.

Burning skies.

Howling stone.

Mountains shaped like claws.

And colossal, dreaming forms, pulsing beneath cracked ground—gods shaped from rage and teeth, ancient titans who once devoured stars for sport.

One of them opened an eye.

The chamber screamed.

Even the gods flinched.

"You speak of limits," hissed the Devoured.

"But they remember a world without chains."

IV. The Gods React

Erzulie Freda stepped forward, eyes blazing.

"Then let them come. And let them bleed."

Ogou drew his blade, calm and furious.

"If war is your gift, we'll answer in kind."

Papa Legba simply smiled.

"The Beast Planet stirs? Then the meeting must end in truth."

Zion rose, slow.

Eyes locked on the rift.

On the Devoured.

"Then let all worlds hear it: Nouvo Lakay will not kneel. And if you unleash monsters upon mortals… we will answer with gods who remember their hearts.